Solla Sollew
by Franki09
Summary: A short collection of Normaler one-shots each based upon a Dr Seuss quote or lyric. Chapter one: You know when you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is better than your dreams. Please read and review!
1. Stay the night

_You know when you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is better than your dreams._

_~ Dr Seuss_

"Gosh, Oncie, you're such a tease!"

"I'm not teasing!" he protests. "I'm being serious!"

She swats playfully at his arm, hanging her head back with snorts of laughter. "As if. You're so optimistic, you."

A warm grin spreads across his face like butter on toast as she gives his nose a poke, causing his cheeks to flush. "A little optimism never hurt anyone."

Norma scoffs, giving her round, hazel eyes a roll. "Once, you're so optimistic, you would hold onto the idea that pigs could fly if that's what you wanted."

"Hey – pigs might be able to fly one day. Evolution is a strange thing," he says, and even he can't tell whether he's being sarcastic or not.

Nevertheless, she just flashes him a mild grin of defeat, saying, "You see, that's what I'm talking about, right there. You gotta understand reality sometimes."

He smirks and raises a dark eyebrow in a dramatic manner.

"You saying that it's unrealistic my thneed business is ever gonna take off?" he challenges, but they both know it's in a joking light.

"I don't know," she shrugs, playing along, "It could end up being a complete failure!"

"Oh really?" he grins, "Is that so, Miss Norma?"

"Well, Oncie, I'm sure with your optimism the thought of anything failing would never even cross your mind," she says, leaning towards him slightly. A light brush of pink arises on his face. "And you know," she murmurs in her most seductive tone, causing his heart to race, "maybe – goodness!" she pulls back in surprise, having seen the clock behind Once-ler's head. She stands up from where they were sat on the bed and brushes down her poodle skirt. "Would you look at the time!"

Slightly disappointed, although he doesn't show it, the Once-ler turns and yelps slightly when he too catches the rather unfortunate hour the clock hands are pointing to.

"My mother asked me to be back for 9, oh god, oh god, oh god," Norma paces about the room, scrabbling at her chestnut curls in worry. When the Once-ler doesn't do anything, she stops and looks at him with wide, frantic eyes; "It's already 8!"

Panicked, he drags slender fingers down the side of his face, contemplating what to do.

"It's a three hour trek back to town! I'll never make it!" she groans, bouncing up and down as Once-ler stands up to join her in her worry.

"I-it's okay," he tries. "I-I'll give you a lift! Melvin will be more than happy to give you a ride back."

Norma flaps her hand at him in dismissal as she fumbles around his coat stand for her coat and bag, muttering, "No no, it's fine, I don't want to cause you any trouble-"

"Norma, it's fall and it's going to be dark outside – it's too dangerous and I'm not letting you go home alone."

Flushed and a little disheveled, Norma comes to stand before him looking as bright as ever, having found her bag and haphazardly ushered her coat on. Her round glasses are knocked to the side and fogged up so much that he can barely make out her eyes. "Oh no, it's fine Oncie!" she giggles, obviously trying to contain her earlier stress. He's not buying it. "I'll make it quick."

Then she him gives him a friendly peck on the cheek and makes her way to the door, when he catches up with her and blocks her path. She squeaks in surprise, going cross-eyed to look at his finger as he taps her nose with each word. "Nuh-uh," he insists. "I'm taking you."

"Once-ler, I'll be fine-" she waves him off, but he's adamant.

"_I'm taking you,_" he says, and his clear, dismissive tone of voice makes it known that he's not standing down any time soon. Her eyes grow wide in surprise, and she shuts her mouth like a codfish.

"Okay Once-ler."

A sigh escapes his lips and his shoulders relax, as he turns and pulls his own long coat and fedora off of the stand. "Let's go."

Norma obediently follows him, as he extends his arm to pull on the handle of his misshapen front door, when it appears a waterfall has developed outside his house and comes crashing down onto them both as soon as he pulls it open. Neither of them now how to react as harsh rain pelts down into the house, showering them both in an icy river. Cold, strong winds envelope them both as he yells out in surprise and she lets a high-pitched cry of distress she didn't even know she had escape, but the sounds are lost in the howling winds.

When all of a sudden, it stops, and they're both drenched and Once-ler is leaning against the doorframe, his hand lingering on the handle and his breath coming out short and ragged.

"Whoa," is the only thing either of them can say, whilst they stand there in a stunned sort of silence and a cold puddle on the floor.

A few moments pass before the Once-ler gathers himself together and hurries over to the window, violently pulling open the flowery curtains. Rain is smashing down in angry torrents against the windowpane, with the force of bullets on tin, causing it to rattle in its frame. The room is filled with a brief, eerie white flash and a loud _crack _like a whip can be heard as lightning strikes, followed by the distant rumbling of thunder. Once-ler edges away, pulling closed the curtains as he does so. "Mustache isn't gonna be happy if that was a tree that got struck," he mumbles under his breath to himself, beginning to pace.

Norma just stands there, her skirts dripping and her brown hair dark and plastered to her forehead. Her jaw hangs open as she ponders on what to say, feeling as useless as a chocolate teapot as she stands there, doing nothing. Her eyes follow her friend as he walks to and fro, beginning to grow dizzy with his rushed, fleeting movements.

"Can't do that – no – what will her parents say? – Lorax won't be happy – trees – Melvin could – no – should we? – what about?" he murmurs to himself, so quickly she only catches certain words.

It felt like hours had passed, when in reality, it was mere minutes. "Once-ler, I really have to get going," she says, snapping him out of ramblings.

"What?" he turns to her, incredulous. His blue eyes are distant as he tries to comprehend her words.

"Rather soon, if you don't mind."

He pulls a hand through his dark, damp hair, huffing, before turning to her again. "Norma, you can't seriously be considering walking home in that weather, are you?"

She shrugs. "Melvin won't want to go anywhere in it, will he?"

He groans in frustration with this brazen woman, restraining himself from slapping his forehead, stress bubbling up like the storm outside in his stomach. His temples throb with an oncoming headache. "That's not the poi- look, you'll freeze to death out there!" he cries.

Another crack of lightning is all Norma needs to know that he's right. But what other choice does she have?

"You'll have to stay the night here," he says, throwing his hands up in defeat.

"Once-ler, that really isn't necessary-"

"What other options are there? You go out there, you freeze to death, or you catch pneumonia and die tomorrow, you get struck by lightning, you get mugged, you get crushed by a tree, you lose your way, or get injured, and you _still _won't make it back in time!"

She has to laugh at this – the idea of a lot of those things happening sounds preposterous, especially coming from his mouth. "Says Mr Optimism," she mocks in her best _Mr. Grumpy face _voice.

"Exactly!" he says, using wild hand gestures for emphasis. "That's _me _being optimistic! There's no way you're going anywhere in this weather, missus."

She sighs, wringing out her damp hair and placing her dripping coat back on the stand. "Fine," she reluctantly agrees, much to his relief. In her wet clothes, she shivers, and Once-ler immediately starts panicking.

"Do you want me to get you a towel?" he asks, his voice catching nervously at the end.

She nods at she plops down his bed, surpressing a yawn and kicking off her shoes. He hurries off through another door, to the back room, (or storage room, as he sometimes fondly calls it) leaving her alone, with nothing to do. Once-ler's radiophone hadn't been finished yet, so there was no way to call her mother. _She'll be getting so worried, _Norma thinks, shuddering at the thought of the mouthful she'd be getting in the morning.

A few moments later, the Once-ler returns with a pink fluffy towel and hands it to her, and she takes it gratefully with a small 'thank you.' It's soft and warm and freshly-washed, and although smells mainly of washing detergent, has the lingering scent of fresh butterfly milk. She realizes it was probably made out of the same material as his thneed, which he is now wearing around his neck, from the Truffula tufts. Wrapping it around her, it instantly soaks up the droplets on her bare shoulders and neck, and she pulls it closer for it's warmth.

The Once-ler's heart soars at the sight of her snuggling up with his towel, a look of pure innocence and glee upon her features, when he realizes with a sudden dread that unless he denies Norma of a place to sleep, he would be sleeping on the cold, hard floor. His disappointment must have shown visibly on his face, as Norma shoots him a concerned look and asks, "Everything alright, Once?"

He waves it off, grinning and hauling up his guitar. "What, me? Yeah, I'm fine. Nothing wrong," he says, strumming a few chords, and giving it a quick tuning. He didn't want her to feel bad about staying over. Not quite buying it, Norma nods with an unsure, 'Okay,' and continues drying her hair with the towel, still, unbeknownst to him, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

Before long, Once-ler finds himself subconsciously plucking out a tune, the tune of one of the new songs by that Johnny Cash guy that recently came out. He knows Norma likes Johnny Cash. He isn't very good to start with, as it's a song he's trying to work out himself and he's never really heard it many times before, but before long he's grown used to the rhythm and his foot is tapping in time with the beat. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Norma looking at him with a smile of fascination on her lips as her eyes follow his quick-fingered movements. He hands flick from fret to fret, so fast his fingers become a blur, seemingly taking on a mind of their own as they pluck out the notes with a slight swing to their beat. Then she is singing along to it, the lyrics etched into her memory – her high, lilting voice doesn't go well with the song designed for the deep, husky drawl of Johnny Cash, but somehow she and Once-ler's guitar make it work.

When the number is finished, and Norma is trying to suppress her giggles on the bed, Once-ler rises to his feet and gently lays the guitar against the window seat he had been sat upon. For a moment they forget about the storm outside and it's just laughing and smiles tossed about the room in a gleeful game of catch, when the windows fly open with another aggressive surge of rainwater, and the room is filled with the blinding white of lightning again. Norma squeaks and the Once-ler rushes to the window, slamming it shut with as much strength as he can muster against the power of the wind. Biting her lower lip, Norma watches as his arms tremble slightly getting the shutters closed, trying her hardest to avoid the spray of droplets that the wind could fly that far into the room.

It only takes a few instants, but then he's succeeded in closing the windows and the weather outside is locked away. A sigh of relief breaks through Norma's lips, as Once-ler wipes the water from his forehead. An icy chill has settled uncomfortably in the room, hanging thick and heavy, sending the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Obviously it's noticeable, as soon they're both rubbing the goosebumps on their arms and Norma pulls the towel further round herself. The heat has escaped, and it doesn't seem to be wanting to come back anytime soon.

Once-ler straightens himself and brushes down his trousers, with a heavy sigh and a clap of the hands. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think it's going to be too cold to last the night. Want me to light a fire?"

Norma shakes her head, laughing it off, never the one to be a demanding guest. "Nah, I'll be fine," she says, but the Once-ler takes up his raincoat again, before pulling the hood far over his eyes.

"I'll just be a minute," he assures her, striding to the door and turning to look at her one last time. "We need some firewood."

He's out the door and in the rain before Norma can protest, and the weather is worse than he'd anticipated. From here, he can see the tent of his cottage visibly shaking in the wind, and a lot of the pegs holding the whole thing together are trembling in the ground. He can barely hear his own voice over the screeching wind and growling skies, and he has to blink back tears from the pain of the raindrops hitting his skin like a thousand tiny needles. His blood turns to lead as he stands there for what felt like hours, his brain scrambled and no idea what to do, and his skin tingles with intense pain as the cold seeps down to the bone.

Clutching his hood to his head to keep it from blowing away, the Once-ler scrunches up his face and holds out his hand to steady himself from the natural forces seemingly working against him, as he tries to scramble round the back to the makeshift shed, or barn, or whatever you want to call it. He wasn't entirely sure whether it was still attached to the ground or not, because none of his makeshift house is really very heavy and winds like this could blow it away incredibly easily. It really was a wonder his house hadn't already done so.

With the rain biting at his face and his wet clothes clinging to his body, Once-ler wonders briefly if this is the Lorax's warning, his punishment for not leaving the valley. _Leave the valley by sunset, or all the forces of nature will be unleashed upon you! _He knew it was only an empty threat to get him to leave, as, as the Lorax had said himself, it just doesn't work like that, but the Once-ler has never seen weather like this in the Truffula valley before, and he's pretty sure that if all the forces of nature were unleashed upon him, this is what it would feel like.

This is more than just a storm – this is bordering on tornado, the lightning and gale force at almost critical levels. He still can't believe Norma was considering going out in this weather. It would have been a funny thought, but the idea of his friend not making it three minutes before something terrible happening wasn't really that funny, especially when he was in these conditions himself, wishing he could be anywhere in the world but there.

Minutes have passed, and he's barely moved at all, (really, the 'cottage' isn't that big) and his chest clenches in sympathy for the Barbaloots and Swammy Swans out in this weather. The Humming Fish would probably be okay in the safety of their underwater protection, but he didn't want to think about the land and sky animals outside in weather like this. And the Lorax… he wasn't just the guardian of the trees, but for the animals who lived in them too, and the abuse they were getting right now…

Once-ler shoves the thoughts from his mind and focuses on the task at hand – collect firewood, get back as fast as possible so as not to dampen them, light fire; sleep. Yeah, that sounds like a pretty good plan for the evening. But for now, he just concentrates on the current job. As hard as it was to walk against the fierce air currents, he would need to get back as soon as possible. Hopefully it would be easier coming the other way, as he'd be in the right direction for the wind.

After a few minutes, he's reached the barn. Struggling to grasp a hold of the slick handle, his hand burning from the intense iciness of its touch, Once-ler eventually manages to shove the old door open, with the thrust of his hip, stumbling into the barn and slamming the door behind him. Moonlight paints dancing shadows on the dusty floor, from the trickling raindrops on the distorted glass window, and the ceiling leaks heavily onto a large stack of hay.

Melvin grunts and looks at him, yet Once-ler can barely make out his dark, grey shape melting amongst the shadows. Relaxing with a sigh of relief to be inside and sheltered once again, the Once-ler leans against the doorway with a faint chuckle of relief. Then he pulls his hood down and shuffles over to the mule, giving the mule a good scratch behind the ears. Melvin seems fine, as ever, not bothered by the disturbances (or anything) when there's a sudden crack of lightning and his dull eyes go wide with fear. He brays incessantly and starts repeatedly kicking the thin wooden wall behind him. His hair bristles and doesn't stop, just kicking, kicking, kicking, until Once-ler is sure the wall's going to fall down.

This, of course, is the last thing Once-ler needs, and he begins to try and calm the dumb animal down.

"Whoa, Melvin! Stop that! Melvin, this is the last thing we need!"

Still, the mule has been jolted by the lightning, and isn't responding to anything his owner is saying.

That is, until Once-ler grabs hold of his reigns and struggles to hold him still, his skinny arm around Melvin's thick neck, as he brays and whines and butts his head from side to side. It takes some time, but eventually Melvin's fright has calmed down until he's just twitching silently, shaking his head from side to side and huffing air through his donkey, tombstone-like teeth. For a second, Once-ler briefly considers getting a bag of apples for him to last through the night, but he quickly tossed the thought aside at the prospect of having to make the trip twice for a few apples.

Once-ler sighs and gives him a pat on the head, Melvin chomping indignantly on some hay. Tugging on his sleeves, even though they're stuck to his skin from the rainwater, he looks around for the pile of firewood he had stashed up here. He had run out of the timber made from the first Truffula he had chopped down, and since his promise to the Lorax, he's had to buy it from town. Where they got it from, he would never know.

Grabbing an empty sack from the floor, shaking the water out of it with a scattering of droplets, Once-ler begins to gather the logs up one by one and shoving them into the rough, scratchy bag. Melvin watches him in light boredom, always chewing away at the hay, showing no signs of the previous panic attack. The sack on Once-ler's arm grows heavier by the second, until it can take no more load and his arm muscles are pushed to the limit. Chewing on his lower lip and narrowing his eyes, the Once-ler hauls the sack over his shoulder, the coarse straps digging into his bare fingers and burning from the cold, his shoulder aching from the weight. Giving Melvin a final goodbye pat, Once-ler says, "I'll get you a carrot in the morning, bud, 'kay?" and edges towards the door, bracing himself for the impact of the outside world.

Out in the rain, it's much harder to get a sense of his bearings than it was in the stable, and it's hard to get the barn doors closed behind him. It takes all his weight with the additional firewood to get it closed, and he can still hear Melvin's discontented bray from the uncomfortable spray of water. Wiping his brow with a wet hand, so it doesn't make much difference, Once-ler let's out an airy 'Phew!' of relief, still straining under the effort of the firewood.

It doesn't take nearly as long getting back. The ground declines more so he can stumble on his long legs downhill, and the wind is in the right direction this time, pushing him along. Still, it doesn't make it any more comfortable and he still feels like his neck's about to snap off from the force of the currents and frostbite.

Shivering, he arrives at his front door, the warm glow from the windows welcoming. The wood and glass is slick from water, trickling down the surface and giving it a polished sheen. It takes him longer than it should have done to find the handle, as he's squinting his eyes to avoid the water and can barely see a thing through the sheet of rain, but then he's grasped it and he falls through the door haphazardly, almost tripping over the bulging sack of firewood as he lands in the room. His arm aching with the relief of freedom, Once-ler stumbles back to the door and slams it with a mighty bang, hopefully shutting out the water for the rest of the night. He pulls the latch across the door, with a bit of luck securing it, before pulling closed the curtains and breathing a heavy outtake of reprieve. Taking off his coat and hanging the dripping garment on the stand, careful to keep it far from Norma's so as to not dampen it, the Once-ler runs fingers through his dark hair, mussing it up in an attempt to dry it.

He looks round the room, blowing through his hands and rubbing them together to keep them warm. His fingers are so, so so numb. With a start, he realizes that Norma is nowhere to be seen, when his blue eyes land on her sleeping form, curled up on the bed beneath the old brown, patch-worked duvet. The smallest hint of a smile creeps its way onto his face, at the mere sight of her so innocent, almost childlike, in her unconscious state. It was a time when she didn't have to worry about what anyone thought of her, didn't have to care about the feminine expectancy she had to uphold. It was rare that Once-ler ever got to see her like this, though she'd probably never forgive him for saying so, but he thought she looked awfully pretty without her glasses on.

With the cold slowly edging him back to reality, the Once-ler exhaustedly plops down onto the window seat, banishing all previous thoughts from his mind. He pulls up the hem of his pants, pulling off his boots and kicking them onto the floor, as well as his damp socks. He makes a mental note to himself to leave his shoes by the fire so that they can dry by morning; too much water has seeped through, and he can feel blisters forming on his ankles where they had rubbed.

Tossing his socks into a laundry basket, the Once-ler yawns loudly and gives his arms a stretch, his eyelids drooping from tiredness. He half-heartedly shuffles the sack of lumber over to his make-shift hearth, bending down and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He can barely suppress another yawn. Slowly, he pulls the bucket of coal towards him and shovels what he has left into the fireplace, before laying out the wood in a way that's easy for the fire to spread, spreading the smaller shreds of kindling on top. In his weaker state of mind, it takes him a while to remember where he put the matches, and even longer to fumble around for one and strike it hard enough for a flame.

Careful not to burn himself, the Once-ler edges it towards the wood, watching in wonder as the flames are born out of nothing, slowly growing, spreading from log to log, until it's a leaping little fire lashing spreading dancing shadows across the wooden floor. Grinning happily, he stretches out his hands towards the flames, rubbing them together and trying to let the warmth soak back into his bones. It's a relief when they do, and he can already begin to feel his clothes start to dry.

Oh, what he would do for a marshmallow on a stick right now.

But he knows that he's too tired for something like that, and on a marshmallow shortage anyway, so he gets up and starts pondering on where he can sleep for the night. Maybe he could gather some spare pillows and have a makeshift mattress on the floor? He wanted to try and do it without waking Norma – glancing over at her again, she looked so peaceful. He did consider sleeping on the window seat, but with his height he would never fit, at least comfortably.

Satisfied that the fire is stocked up enough to last the night, he tries to ignore the howling winds outside and gets up, tossing a final log over the fire for good measure. As there's no way to get electricity out here, the most he has is a gas lamp, a few candles, and a battery flashlight that lasts a few minutes max. It's darker in here than it was before, as Norma took it upon herself to dim the gas light and blow out the candles before she went to sleep, making that and the fire the only sources of light. Oh, and the occasional crack of lightning, but that didn't really count.

Deciding to sort out the sleeping problem for later, Once-ler decides to get ready for bed first. He scans the room for his pajamas, a little wary of what Norma would think but too tired to care, before realizing with a groan that they were still on his bed. Most likely under the covers.

Dragging a hand down his face in irritation, he gets up and drags himself to the bed, careful to makes his movements as quiet as possible so as not to wake her. As he draws nearer, she mumbles something incoherent to herself and turns over, causing him to stop dead in his tracks, but thankfully she's still sleeping. In bare feet, he barely makes a sound.

He's reached the bed, and he can see a bit of the blue fabric poking out from under the covers. He narrows his eyes in thought, considering briefly just to sleep in his current clothes, but waves the thought away when he realized they'd be far too wet and he'd catch a terrible cold, even with the fire. Sighing at the only option, he very gently slides his arms under Norma's figure, causing her to mumble and shuffle again. Knowing she's almost as deep a sleeper as he is, (really, he slept through a river) he doesn't bother to be careful much, too tired to worry about that.

He's almost moved her far enough to snatch up his pajamas, when he catches her mention his name and she grabs his arm, pulling him down unaware, before he could react. She clutches his arm to her like a teddy bear and he can't move, tied down to the bed, his knees still on the floor. They start to ache. Norma tightens her grip and whispers next to his ear, 'Stay,' and he can do nothing but chuckle nervously and say, 'What?'

She's already asleep again at this point, and says no more, but his heart is racing and he loses all rational thought, realizing that she wasn't going to let go any time soon. With a pink blush creeping onto his cheeks, he clumsily climbs into the small bed next to her, unable to think straight. She wraps her arms around his waist and pulls him close, close enough to feel her heartbeat, and murmurs something into his chest. Her warmth is better than a hundred fires.

He's never been this close to anyone before, not in this way, and it's exhilarating. So different from any contact he's had before. Somehow, she doesn't mind his wet clothes and just holds him close, and he decides that maybe, maybe he can sleep here tonight.

But with the fire flickering and the rain drumming against the roof, he holds on from sleep's grasp for a little while, because maybe, maybe having her pressed against him, holding him close, maybe that's better than any dream in sleep he could ever have.


	2. Of moments and memories

_Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory._

_~ Dr. Seuss_

It was always the simple things in life for them. Which was rather odd, considered they were both rather eccentric people, with their over the top hand gestures and louder than life clothing, especially in Norma's case. Maybe their appreciation of the quiet moments of peace was what balanced them out. Either way, they seemed to have so many of these 'moments' that they all seemed to blur together. A single memory, of each of their experiences, their mediocre, every day activities, joined together as one. It made it an easy life, a small one, and although Once-ler was always talking about his big plans for the future, it was an acknowledgement between them both that what they had would suit them both just fine.

They did have their more memorable moments though, were they took to activities and events more suited to their wild personalities. Whether it be attending the loud music festivals of Greenville and dancing through the lantern filled streets at night, or playing an incredibly stressing game of tag through the valley, or one of their rarer moments of spontaneous 'affection', they had their gems that shone bright among the rest. It was only years later when they would both appreciate how simple and utterly _perfect _things had been before.

It was nighttime. A warm, summer's evening, the forest alive and buzzing with fireflies and cicadas, the animals still active and moving as late as it was. The windows were open, the sweet, warm breeze allowed to roam and wander, bringing with it the scent of fresh butterfly milk and new grass. Most evenings had been like this since spring, so it was nothing new, nothing special. Just pleasant.

They were sat on his bed, pushed against the wall to allow back rest, (and because he had bought a new one and repositioned it after the, ahem, 'river incident') not really doing much. Thneed sales were climbing still, slowly, but his family still hadn't responded to any of his calls. It was a nice period, because Once-ler had enough money to live off comfortably, without the pressure of customers and deadlines and all that. No, for the moment, life was easy.

He had his back against the wall, his long legs crossed over and cutting directly across the bed. Norma was leaning against the bedstead, perpendicular to him with her own legs crossed over his lap. Not much conversation was passed between them, as Norma was very involved in her book, the latest Rosemary Sutcliffe novel, and the Once-ler was thoroughly engrossed in the knitting of a Thneed. He would whistle occasionally, and kept swapping between the unfinished Thneed or tuning the guitar, and maybe occasionally Norma would lift her head and peer at him through her glasses when he grumbled something along the lines of 'can't be bothered' or 'I swear that stitching's wrong' or maybe 'what's up with that chord?'

It was somewhat amusing to her to see his brow furrowed in concentration as he muttered to himself, seemingly unaware of her gaze as he pouted like a little child. On the surface, he always put on the whole, 'confident salesman' act, but it really was a wonder to see him so _childlike _when he thought no-one was looking. At least, when he was around people he knew well enough to let his guard down for.

She had to suppress a giggle when he pricked his finger on the needle, causing him to retaliate with a sharp, 'Sheesh!' and arch his back, screwing up his face and shaking his hand as if it would stop the pain.

Biting her lip to contain the amusement threatening to burst out of her mouth, Norma placed the book softly on her lap and tried to keep quiet, studying him. When he felt her gaze, he stopped and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He had his finger in his mouth, sucking on the 'wound' in the hopes that maybe it would drive the sting away. It was only when he realized that she was looking at him, struggling to contain her mirth, that he pulled his finger away and attempted to compose himself, wiping it on his waistcoat. She was still looking at him, he realized, and so cleared his throat in an attempt to pick up what little dignity he had left.

Once-ler found out that day that it was in fact rather difficult to shake off Norma's intense watch and get on with his work, because he couldn't help but glance at her and find her hazel brown eyes permanently set on his figure, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. At first it didn't really bother him that much, until she squeaked a giggle and it began to pull at his strings.

He frowned, and slouched further into his shoulders, grumbling incoherently to himself and knitting like the world was at stake. At the mopey look on his face Norma couldn't contain it any longer, and let out a huge outburst of laughter that made her sides hurt and cause her to double over, trembling.

His bewildered expression only made her laugh even harder. So much in fact that she had to start gasping for air, at least thirty seconds passing before she could even breathe properly again. At one point she even started fanning herself with her book.

When she finally stopped long enough to look at him, quiet giggles escaping here and there, Once-ler wasn't quite sure what to do. He didn't quite know what was so funny, but he knew that it was to do with him and whatever mannerisms he had adapted in the past few moments. As he looked back on the _stabbing _of his finger and the way he pressed it to his mouth in an effort to stop the pain and wash away the _tiny _amount of blood, there was no material he found particularly amusing, especially as it was him she was laughing at.

Yet the way she started laughing again, after what he thought was the end of it, made him realize it was just the entire situation in itself that was making her laugh. After all, when he thought about it, he'd be in hysterics himself if he were in her position. It wasn't anything that had happened that was making her laugh, but maybe it was just that she was laughing and the moment called for it.

So he started laughing too. Not forced, fake laughs just for the sake of laughing, but actual, genuine laughter because his body wanted him to. It wasn't that he found anything funny, as he still didn't understand what was, but it felt so good to laugh with her like that, and he really couldn't help himself.

They snorted and chuckled and hooted and snickered together. Any amount of time could have passed. Really, they just enjoyed doing nothing together. Enjoying each other's company.

It did stop, eventually. Norma picked up her book and carried on reading. Once-ler continued knitting the thneed, and seemed to actually get work done this time around. The smiles left neither of their faces though, and every once in a while, they'd both look at each other knowingly and grin like there was some inside joke they were sharing, which, in some respects, there was.

They had already forgotten about it the next day of course. It wasn't a special moment, not amongst other things that had happened in their relationship, and was the kind of occurrence that happened with anyone anywhere at any time.

Just one, simple moment. One that was forgotten as easily as it started.

* * *

Once-ler sighs for the umpth time in a lifetime, sinking into the old chair by the window, wonky and open with the frame hanging by a hinge, creaking in the slow, thick wind. It's not a fed up sigh, nor a tired sigh. It is the sigh of a man who has nothing to smile for anymore – nothing to cry about, nothing to scream. The crying has long since passed. His tears as dry as the barren wasteland lurking beyond the walls of his refuge.

All he has left is his sighs.

He spends a lot of time thinking. About the Lorax, about the trees, about the animals and his family, about the promises he made, and the promises he broke, and the Thneeds and the money and the axe at his hands that ended it all.

Sometimes he thinks about Norma. Sometimes his lost love would creep into his thoughts, but only out of context, as amongst other things his fiancée who left long before the Lorax had done doesn't rate high in the things he regrets. It was more like she falls under the many consequences of the one main focus of his thoughts – the trees. Norma O'Schumnsler as a whole never very often comes into his thoughts, and she always runs away quickly when she does. He has too many other things to think about than to selfishly pine after something that, surprise surprise, was also his own fault.

This time? This time he thinks about Norma. It is the first time that she's the only focus of his ideas in a long time, but until now her presence in his mind seemed unimportant. But for a few seconds he forgets about the trees and remembers the problems that hurt him personally to add to his tick list of 'Things that make me depressed.'

**X** Everything.

Before now, he had always expected his memories of her to be the big things – his proposal, their meeting, _her leaving, _all the _important _things, but the only thought that springs to mind is that one time, in his cottage by themselves, when they laughed about nothing. Was it that one time? It probably happened more than once. Either way, the moment is as fresh and clear in his head as the acrid air that stung his nose and throat and eyes every day.

Suddenly he feels guilty not about sending her away or the trees, but for taking everything for granted. In the moment, it had seemed so unimportant, like they could just tell they were to spend the rest of their lives together and didn't need to remember the now. Had he known then that he would one day end up like he is now, he would have cherished every moment. Focused on every second, memorized the smell of her hair, the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. Made every minute count.

How he wishes he could go back to that. How simple it had seemed then, but how utterly perfect it is compared to his predicament now.

He groans in anger and hangs his head in his hands. How could he have been so _stupid? _He asks himself this every day but now he has a new reason to add to his list of reasons why.

_Another sigh._

It's such a shame he only realizes the value of that moment now it's a memory.


End file.
